October 29, 2014

Five Dating Rules For My Daughters

Welcome to the premiere of my new blog series, PENILE PERSPECTIVES! Today's post was inspired by a conversation I had with the man of my household. After gut-wrenching laughter, I had a desire to hear from other men of the world.

Travis, fromThe Simple Man's Survival Guide has given us his perspective. I asked him to share the advice he will give to his own kids about the opposite sex, as it relates to dating, relationships, etc. Here is what he had to say:______________________________________________________________________________

I
have two daughters who are currently 2 and 4. Right now they are
perfect little angels, but at some point in the hopefully distant future
they're going to want to start dating. When that dark day comes, I have
just a handful of core rules that I'm going to ask that they adhere to:

1) You know what impresses me most? A job. I
don't care if he's waxing asses in Asian massage parlor, or working as a
fart statistician or chicken sexer (all real jobs) as long as he's
doing something. Not having a job implies a few different things: 1)
He's not old enough to get a job, 2) he's so stupid no one wants to hire
him, 3) he doesn't want to work or 4) he's too busy with other things
for a relationship; three out of the four don't reflect terribly well on
him. And don't even tell me that he doesn't need to make any money for
you guys to just hang out together and have fun, because that's
horseshit. I know what bored, horned-up teenage couples do: they have
sex. Which brings us to my next point.

2) You are not allowed to have sex. I
realize that this is more a hope than anything I can actually enforce,
and that I won't be able to follow you two everywhere. What I can
enforce is that when you're in my house your door is always open to any
room you walk into with him, you don't leave my site when he's around,
and that John Boy's sword stays sheathed at all times. Because if I
suspect that he's whipped his teenie weemis out to do anything other
than piss in one of my many precious porcelain bowls, I will tie him
down, and slowly, painfully and nothing remotely close to surgically
grind his dick off with 12-grit sandpaper. He'll be praying for death by
the time I get done with him. I do this not because I'm an overbearing
asshole father, but because I want you to realize that if you get
pregnant, you will spend the next 18 years of your life wiping shit up,
explaining shit, picking up shit, discussing unnecessarily dramatic shit
and finally boxing up shit before you get your life back. Also, by the
time you two are in high school there's the very real chance that your
mother won't even be offering me pity sex, which means that if I'm not
getting any in my own house, no one else is either.

3)
Any guy you bring home needs to respect that this is my house and he
has to follow your mother's stupid rules like the rest of us. I'm
not dealing with some swoll, cock-diesel, machismoed-up motherfucker who
thinks he's gonna come rolling through my house like he owns it,
offending the rest of us. He may be able to bench press a Cadillac and
run circles around me, but I guarantee you he's not bringing anything a
shot of laxative slipped into his drink and a 19 million-volt taser
can't handle. We'll see who's tough when he's blacked out, shitting
himself and having a seizure at the end of my driveway while I stand
over him taking a selfie that I'll caption with "U mad, bro?" that gets
posted to Facebook. When I say, "Don't lean back in the chair" in a
friendly, fatherly tone, he needs to hear, "Don't lean back in my
motherfuckin' chair" as though it's being told to him by Samuel L.
Jackson.

4) No drugs and no booze. I
know -- I'm no fun. After you get to college, you'll have the freedom
to make all the ill-advised life choices you want as long as you can
pass your classes and afford to do it. But until then, your ass is mine,
and if some needle-dicked, dimwitted dickhead brings you back drunk or
high on anything other than life, you'll be grounded for at least a
month, and the only entertainment options available to you will be a DVD
library of old after-school specials and a Bible. As for John Boy, he'll get either the sandpaper or taser trick again; maybe both if the situation warrants it.

5) I'm watching you. I'm
able to see everything you do on our home network. That means I'll be
able to see your personal Facebook account even though you thought you
locked me out, I'll be able to see your secret Facebook account that you
think I don't know about, and virtually anything else you do on a
screen. You will have no clue any of this is happening until you and
your little man friend (who's Indian name would be Thinks With His Dick)
start wandering from casual conversation into sexting territory, or
worse, doing weird shit over a video chat, and I have to pull the plug
on the network and kick the door in like a one-man SWAT team and save
you from yourself. The first time something like this happens, you'll
get a talk and a warning -- and obviously a new door. The second time
this happens, I'll sneak over to Thinks With His Dick's house and staple
his balls to his iPad and beat him unconscious with his laptop.
Hopefully he figures it out before I need to escalating things to the
sandpaper and taser level.

So what do you think? How do you feel about Travis' advice/rules for his offspring? Be sure to leave a comment and to follow Travis all over the web! He's currently ranked the #1 Daddy Blog on Top Mommy Bloggers!Find more of his awesomeness on:

Omg, laughing my literal ass off. No, that's not happening, but I wish my ass were falling off because I really am laughing THAT hard! "We'll see who's tough when he's blacked out, shitting himself and having a seizure at the end of my driveway while I stand over him taking a selfie that I'll caption with "U mad, bro?" that gets posted to Facebook." Omg, my tummy hurts. :)